The Gift
Title: The Gift
Author: septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Rating: NC-17 for toys, kink
Words: 2200
Summary: It's Godric's turn to try out their new Christmas present! A quick fic written in the spirit of the season and in celebration for my finally finishing the first complete, rough draft of the Dark Fic, which still needs a bit of polishing. No, I'm not dead. Just slow.
Note: Regular kink readers will know that this story is tangentially related to my tale of The Photographer's Equipment, here's a link.
Godric's fingers brushed across the sky-blue cashmere sweater on the counter in front of him, a look of intense concentration on his face.
"You can feel the difference," the clerk said, trying to be helpful to a customer who was having trouble making his selection. "It's a heavier ply. You'll have it forever." Godric didn't respond.
"But if you'd like something a little more lightweight, the other one's probably a better choice," the clerk added, hedging his bets.
"Which color do you think suits him better?" Eric asked.
"Oh, I think they'd both be very nice." It was true. The muted blue tones did suit Godric, they brought out the peculiar color of his eyes, which seemed to change depending on what he was wearing.
"Perhaps if you'd give us a moment," Eric said helpfully. The clerk took the hint and moved away a little, although not so far that he'd be unable to complete the sale if it happened, which it most likely would, judging by appearances. They were laden with shopping bags, the two dressed expensively. Godric looked particularly fetching in his new loden green wool coat. He also looked more or less like what he was - utterly foreign. It always interested Eric the assumptions humans made in a large city like New York, impulsively speaking to Godric in a variety of languages - German, Dutch, French, even Danish and Swedish - sure they'd got it right. And Godric, being Godric, always answered in whatever tongue he'd been addressed in. Even for a vampire, his facility with languages was extraordinary.
Godric moaned very quietly and closed his eyes, his hand now resting on the edge of the counter. Eric caught it in his own, mindful of the fragility of the glass and Godric's current state. He pulled Godric's hand down gently to his side and then shifted his own hand up Godric's arm, grasping it above the elbow, so that he was ready to support him if his knees buckled a little, which they very well might.
"I should never have taken you to the opera," Godric muttered, his lips barely moving. "It's hardly fair." Eric smiled. It was true; even under normal circumstances Eric had a tendency to shut his eyes and wince as they sat in their box seats during a performance. Forcing Godric to go out for the evening and move about in public was much, much better.
"Just wait, it'll be better in a minute." Perhaps he'd get both sweaters. Eric loved the softness of cashmere against Godric's cool, flawless skin, and both sweaters had v-necks that dipped low enough in the front to show a bit of his tattoo, which Eric found arousing. If Godric wanted to hide it he could wear a shirt underneath.
Eric looked around them. The store - like most of New York - was open quite late this evening, two nights before Christmas. It was thronging with shoppers, out in the snow, giddy with excitement and seasonal warmth as the fat flakes drifted down outside. There was even Christmas music playing over the store's sound system, something tasteful and not too obvious. If anyone noticed Godric's behavior, which was unlikely, Eric could always gather up their purchases and suggest they go sit down on a banquette somewhere and rest for a moment. They'd done so earlier. Watching Godric twitch and squirm as he tried to keep still, in marked contrast to his usual demeanor, was quite a treat.
Eric's look around the room had caught the clerk's eye without meaning to; the man had been watching them, he must have thought they'd made their decision. He came right over.
"We'll take both of them," he said. The man smiled.
"Would you like them boxed and wrapped?"
"Absolutely. We'll wait. We're in no hurry."
The man went off with the sweaters, and Godric opened his eyes again. The sensation was fading; Eric could feel it through their bond.
"You are vile and hateful."
Eric leaned down and brushed his lips across Godric's hair, which was still faintly damp from the snow as they'd walked outside.
"Merry Christmas."
They'd already given each other a number of gifts in their hotel room in New York, and done many of the customary things they did while visiting the city during the holidays. But it had been this gift, the electrical stimulation kit, that Eric was most interested in. He'd consulted two excellent sources for advice beforehand - the lecherous photographer who'd first shown it to him, and a knowledgeable representative from the company that manufactured them. He'd selected two multi-program power boxes, a larger stand-alone and a smaller portable with a remote, along with all the available, gender-appropriate attachments they might ever be conceivably interested in. He'd bought it for both of them to share, naturally. But as he'd had it in Shreveport for several months already he was intimately familiar with its many elaborate features, having tried them all out on himself. The device Eric had lubricated with the conducting jelly and inserted into Godric before they left the hotel had a small power source that one could tuck discreetly into a pocket. And then there was the remote control, so small it fit on a keychain, which Eric had in his pocket. He'd expended quite a bit of mental energy before selecting this particular program, a random series of waves that slowly built in their intensity. The key was correctly selecting the frequency, range and lengths of the peaks and valleys - enough so that Godric could feel their effects quite strongly, but not so much that he couldn't move about in a quasi-normal fashion in public, albeit with a few delicious interludes where he was rendered almost insensible to his surroundings, as if he were having a mini-seizure.
Eric had agreed to go first, wearing the device for an entire evening with Godric at the controls. He'd found that it added a whole new dimension to the Metropolitan Museum, which on their visit the previous night was so packed with humans and their shouting, squalling offspring that Godric hadn't even needed to take special care with the intensity. More than once Eric had leaned against a wall, gasping for air he didn't need, while Godric stood close by with a smile on his face, one finger on the controls in his pocket, manipulating them. At one point a guard had come over and spoken to them - Eric wasn't even sure what he'd said - at which point Godric had assured him that his uncle was all right, just having one of his usual spells, and then led Eric off by the arm.
"Let's go have a rest over there, uncle," Godric said, nodding to a pair of vacant seats in the corner under the stairs.
"You little bastard," Eric said, at last finding his voice. It was hoarse. "I'm not going over there with you, you'll only turn the damn thing up again once I'm sitting down."
"This was your idea," Godric answered sweetly. "Now come." And Eric did come, about five minutes later, sitting right there on that chair as his legs twitched, Godric watching his face through the whole thing. He discovered he'd bitten his tongue trying to keep silent. Godric glanced around them before leaning over and kissing Eric hard on the mouth, just so he could taste his blood. Eric could still feel the electricity inside of him as it ebbed. Temporarily.
"We're going to have to leave soon," Godric said, his voice solemn. "We need to get back to the hotel and get you cleaned up for the opera." He glanced around, looking thoughtful. Eric could feel the warm stickiness inside the tight, heavy cotton briefs Godric had handed him earlier to put on. They were proving useful.
"Although perhaps we should find the men's room first. I think there's one just around that corner." His eyes met Eric's then. He was smirking a bit. Eric leaned his head back against the wall behind them and groaned, thinking of the upcoming hours of torment. Well, at least tonight wouldn't be dull, and Godric wouldn't push him to the point that he was disturbing the patrons in the boxes nearby. His maker was far too polite for that.
They sat in the basement café of Takashimaya, in a corner booth so that Eric could watch everyone going about their holiday business. There was a fur-clad lady with a small dog that looked very much like the lady herself. There was the young couple quietly arguing about the cost of the flowers for their wedding. Two older, blonde women with surgically altered button noses and their skin pulled tight on their gaunt faces, picking at a large salad between them. Eric had ordered only a pot of tea and a plate of cookies, each one so small and beautiful that it was like a work of art. Eric wished he could taste them, but he couldn't. Eventually he'd slip them into the pocket of his overcoat. The tea was easily disposed of, poured into the rows of potted plants next to them which served as a kind of delineating barrier to the rest of the shopping area. But for now the pot served two purposes: it gave Eric a nice place to warm his hands, and it provided an excuse for them to sit and relax. It was osmanthus tea, hand rolled into tiny balls that opened in the water. It smelled intoxicatingly lovely, giving off its sweet perfume as the steam rose. Eric had ordered it so many times at this café that he now associated the smell with New York. And Godric.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked. Godric looked a little peaked. Even the hostess, who remembered them from previous visits (and Eric's absurdly large tips), had made a tiny frown of concern and hustled them over to their customary corner, where they were always allowed to linger undisturbed.
Godric raised the delicate cup to his face in both small hands and inhaled the vapors, then gave Eric a long look, the pupils of his gray eyes still dilated.
"The stores are closing soon," Godric said, declining to answer Eric's question. "We'll have to go back to the hotel."
"Well, we'll certainly have to leave here," Eric responded. He was feeling quite cheerful himself. The car was waiting for them outside; he'd send all their purchases back to the hotel with the driver once he and Godric had been dropped off at their next destination. Eric had secured a horse and carriage, complete with a bonnet to protect them against the snow, and several nice, warm blankets to cover them up. He planned on resetting the device then, taking it off its previous programming so that he could control it manually. He thought it only fair that Godric get a ride he'd not soon forget. The carriage driver would assume, logically enough, that they were in there having sex, and Eric had paid an amount in advance that guaranteed they'd not be disturbed while they enjoyed themselves as the carriage rolled along, a two-hour ride that would end in front of their hotel. If things went as he hoped, Godric would need Eric to carry him up to the room. Eventually Eric would turn him loose, of course, but the thought of Godric, finally naked on the bed, begging and pleading in several languages for mercy - or release - as Eric calmed him and made minute adjustments to the controls on the remote … it made Eric's own knees weak. In fact, the first order of business once they got into the carriage was making Godric suck him off. Eric wasn't sure how much longer he could last.
"What are you thinking about?" The voice was steady again, but Eric thought he caught a faint note of totally justified suspicion in it. They would wait a few more minutes and go. The programming would likely be on an upswing by then. It was pleasant watching Godric walk - very slowly, each foot placed carefully in front of the other while Eric lingered at his elbow with a helping hand.
"I'm thinking what an excellent Christmas this has been," Eric answered, reaching across the table to stroke Godric's cheek - flushed all evening from hidden exertion and now warmed by the steam from the osmanthus tea-- with the back of his hand before signaling the waitress for the check.
*****
Endnote - if you'd like to know exactly what Eric purchased, visit sextek.com for all the fascinating details on the ErosTek product line. Eric chose the medium bipolar plug for Godric since they're using the remote power box. He's saving the larger ones for later for use with the full power box.
Author: septemberoses
Fandom: True Blood
Pairing: Godric/Eric
Rating: NC-17 for toys, kink
Words: 2200
Summary: It's Godric's turn to try out their new Christmas present! A quick fic written in the spirit of the season and in celebration for my finally finishing the first complete, rough draft of the Dark Fic, which still needs a bit of polishing. No, I'm not dead. Just slow.
Note: Regular kink readers will know that this story is tangentially related to my tale of The Photographer's Equipment, here's a link.
Godric's fingers brushed across the sky-blue cashmere sweater on the counter in front of him, a look of intense concentration on his face.
"You can feel the difference," the clerk said, trying to be helpful to a customer who was having trouble making his selection. "It's a heavier ply. You'll have it forever." Godric didn't respond.
"But if you'd like something a little more lightweight, the other one's probably a better choice," the clerk added, hedging his bets.
"Which color do you think suits him better?" Eric asked.
"Oh, I think they'd both be very nice." It was true. The muted blue tones did suit Godric, they brought out the peculiar color of his eyes, which seemed to change depending on what he was wearing.
"Perhaps if you'd give us a moment," Eric said helpfully. The clerk took the hint and moved away a little, although not so far that he'd be unable to complete the sale if it happened, which it most likely would, judging by appearances. They were laden with shopping bags, the two dressed expensively. Godric looked particularly fetching in his new loden green wool coat. He also looked more or less like what he was - utterly foreign. It always interested Eric the assumptions humans made in a large city like New York, impulsively speaking to Godric in a variety of languages - German, Dutch, French, even Danish and Swedish - sure they'd got it right. And Godric, being Godric, always answered in whatever tongue he'd been addressed in. Even for a vampire, his facility with languages was extraordinary.
Godric moaned very quietly and closed his eyes, his hand now resting on the edge of the counter. Eric caught it in his own, mindful of the fragility of the glass and Godric's current state. He pulled Godric's hand down gently to his side and then shifted his own hand up Godric's arm, grasping it above the elbow, so that he was ready to support him if his knees buckled a little, which they very well might.
"I should never have taken you to the opera," Godric muttered, his lips barely moving. "It's hardly fair." Eric smiled. It was true; even under normal circumstances Eric had a tendency to shut his eyes and wince as they sat in their box seats during a performance. Forcing Godric to go out for the evening and move about in public was much, much better.
"Just wait, it'll be better in a minute." Perhaps he'd get both sweaters. Eric loved the softness of cashmere against Godric's cool, flawless skin, and both sweaters had v-necks that dipped low enough in the front to show a bit of his tattoo, which Eric found arousing. If Godric wanted to hide it he could wear a shirt underneath.
Eric looked around them. The store - like most of New York - was open quite late this evening, two nights before Christmas. It was thronging with shoppers, out in the snow, giddy with excitement and seasonal warmth as the fat flakes drifted down outside. There was even Christmas music playing over the store's sound system, something tasteful and not too obvious. If anyone noticed Godric's behavior, which was unlikely, Eric could always gather up their purchases and suggest they go sit down on a banquette somewhere and rest for a moment. They'd done so earlier. Watching Godric twitch and squirm as he tried to keep still, in marked contrast to his usual demeanor, was quite a treat.
Eric's look around the room had caught the clerk's eye without meaning to; the man had been watching them, he must have thought they'd made their decision. He came right over.
"We'll take both of them," he said. The man smiled.
"Would you like them boxed and wrapped?"
"Absolutely. We'll wait. We're in no hurry."
The man went off with the sweaters, and Godric opened his eyes again. The sensation was fading; Eric could feel it through their bond.
"You are vile and hateful."
Eric leaned down and brushed his lips across Godric's hair, which was still faintly damp from the snow as they'd walked outside.
"Merry Christmas."
They'd already given each other a number of gifts in their hotel room in New York, and done many of the customary things they did while visiting the city during the holidays. But it had been this gift, the electrical stimulation kit, that Eric was most interested in. He'd consulted two excellent sources for advice beforehand - the lecherous photographer who'd first shown it to him, and a knowledgeable representative from the company that manufactured them. He'd selected two multi-program power boxes, a larger stand-alone and a smaller portable with a remote, along with all the available, gender-appropriate attachments they might ever be conceivably interested in. He'd bought it for both of them to share, naturally. But as he'd had it in Shreveport for several months already he was intimately familiar with its many elaborate features, having tried them all out on himself. The device Eric had lubricated with the conducting jelly and inserted into Godric before they left the hotel had a small power source that one could tuck discreetly into a pocket. And then there was the remote control, so small it fit on a keychain, which Eric had in his pocket. He'd expended quite a bit of mental energy before selecting this particular program, a random series of waves that slowly built in their intensity. The key was correctly selecting the frequency, range and lengths of the peaks and valleys - enough so that Godric could feel their effects quite strongly, but not so much that he couldn't move about in a quasi-normal fashion in public, albeit with a few delicious interludes where he was rendered almost insensible to his surroundings, as if he were having a mini-seizure.
Eric had agreed to go first, wearing the device for an entire evening with Godric at the controls. He'd found that it added a whole new dimension to the Metropolitan Museum, which on their visit the previous night was so packed with humans and their shouting, squalling offspring that Godric hadn't even needed to take special care with the intensity. More than once Eric had leaned against a wall, gasping for air he didn't need, while Godric stood close by with a smile on his face, one finger on the controls in his pocket, manipulating them. At one point a guard had come over and spoken to them - Eric wasn't even sure what he'd said - at which point Godric had assured him that his uncle was all right, just having one of his usual spells, and then led Eric off by the arm.
"Let's go have a rest over there, uncle," Godric said, nodding to a pair of vacant seats in the corner under the stairs.
"You little bastard," Eric said, at last finding his voice. It was hoarse. "I'm not going over there with you, you'll only turn the damn thing up again once I'm sitting down."
"This was your idea," Godric answered sweetly. "Now come." And Eric did come, about five minutes later, sitting right there on that chair as his legs twitched, Godric watching his face through the whole thing. He discovered he'd bitten his tongue trying to keep silent. Godric glanced around them before leaning over and kissing Eric hard on the mouth, just so he could taste his blood. Eric could still feel the electricity inside of him as it ebbed. Temporarily.
"We're going to have to leave soon," Godric said, his voice solemn. "We need to get back to the hotel and get you cleaned up for the opera." He glanced around, looking thoughtful. Eric could feel the warm stickiness inside the tight, heavy cotton briefs Godric had handed him earlier to put on. They were proving useful.
"Although perhaps we should find the men's room first. I think there's one just around that corner." His eyes met Eric's then. He was smirking a bit. Eric leaned his head back against the wall behind them and groaned, thinking of the upcoming hours of torment. Well, at least tonight wouldn't be dull, and Godric wouldn't push him to the point that he was disturbing the patrons in the boxes nearby. His maker was far too polite for that.
They sat in the basement café of Takashimaya, in a corner booth so that Eric could watch everyone going about their holiday business. There was a fur-clad lady with a small dog that looked very much like the lady herself. There was the young couple quietly arguing about the cost of the flowers for their wedding. Two older, blonde women with surgically altered button noses and their skin pulled tight on their gaunt faces, picking at a large salad between them. Eric had ordered only a pot of tea and a plate of cookies, each one so small and beautiful that it was like a work of art. Eric wished he could taste them, but he couldn't. Eventually he'd slip them into the pocket of his overcoat. The tea was easily disposed of, poured into the rows of potted plants next to them which served as a kind of delineating barrier to the rest of the shopping area. But for now the pot served two purposes: it gave Eric a nice place to warm his hands, and it provided an excuse for them to sit and relax. It was osmanthus tea, hand rolled into tiny balls that opened in the water. It smelled intoxicatingly lovely, giving off its sweet perfume as the steam rose. Eric had ordered it so many times at this café that he now associated the smell with New York. And Godric.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked. Godric looked a little peaked. Even the hostess, who remembered them from previous visits (and Eric's absurdly large tips), had made a tiny frown of concern and hustled them over to their customary corner, where they were always allowed to linger undisturbed.
Godric raised the delicate cup to his face in both small hands and inhaled the vapors, then gave Eric a long look, the pupils of his gray eyes still dilated.
"The stores are closing soon," Godric said, declining to answer Eric's question. "We'll have to go back to the hotel."
"Well, we'll certainly have to leave here," Eric responded. He was feeling quite cheerful himself. The car was waiting for them outside; he'd send all their purchases back to the hotel with the driver once he and Godric had been dropped off at their next destination. Eric had secured a horse and carriage, complete with a bonnet to protect them against the snow, and several nice, warm blankets to cover them up. He planned on resetting the device then, taking it off its previous programming so that he could control it manually. He thought it only fair that Godric get a ride he'd not soon forget. The carriage driver would assume, logically enough, that they were in there having sex, and Eric had paid an amount in advance that guaranteed they'd not be disturbed while they enjoyed themselves as the carriage rolled along, a two-hour ride that would end in front of their hotel. If things went as he hoped, Godric would need Eric to carry him up to the room. Eventually Eric would turn him loose, of course, but the thought of Godric, finally naked on the bed, begging and pleading in several languages for mercy - or release - as Eric calmed him and made minute adjustments to the controls on the remote … it made Eric's own knees weak. In fact, the first order of business once they got into the carriage was making Godric suck him off. Eric wasn't sure how much longer he could last.
"What are you thinking about?" The voice was steady again, but Eric thought he caught a faint note of totally justified suspicion in it. They would wait a few more minutes and go. The programming would likely be on an upswing by then. It was pleasant watching Godric walk - very slowly, each foot placed carefully in front of the other while Eric lingered at his elbow with a helping hand.
"I'm thinking what an excellent Christmas this has been," Eric answered, reaching across the table to stroke Godric's cheek - flushed all evening from hidden exertion and now warmed by the steam from the osmanthus tea-- with the back of his hand before signaling the waitress for the check.
*****
Endnote - if you'd like to know exactly what Eric purchased, visit sextek.com for all the fascinating details on the ErosTek product line. Eric chose the medium bipolar plug for Godric since they're using the remote power box. He's saving the larger ones for later for use with the full power box.